


Call Me Bucky

by shannonissatan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky can dance, Steve is just there to be cute, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is actually in character, bucky barnes gets a puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannonissatan/pseuds/shannonissatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After what he's been through, Tony knows the universe he lives in is full of infinite possibilities. One thing he never expected, though, was a master assassin who'd been brainwashed by the bad guys showing up in his shop at the dark hours of the night looking for his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky shows up in Tony's workshop at 3AM. What the hell do you think happens?

Tony woke up when he felt cold metal on the back of his neck.

His first instinct was a huge gasp and immediately reaching for whatever was touching him (because if it was that goddamned idiot of a robot who kept breaking his coffee maker, he swore he was going to disassemble him for good this time), but whatever it was had disappeared by the time his hand reached his skin. He looked around the shop, where he'd fallen asleep tinkering again, but the dim red and blue lights didn't reveal much.

“Jarvis, turn the lights on,” he said quietly, dropping his safety glasses on the table and wiping a bit of drool off of his cheek. The fluorescent bulbs flickered to life and everything was in its place, but something still seemed... Off. Tony stood up and tried to examine things more carefully. He spun on his heels and straightened up instantly when he heard a loud _clunk_ behind him.

In the darkest corner of the room, a figure stepped out of the shadows—a man at least twice Tony's size, wearing combat boots, dirty black jeans, and a black sweater now stood before him, hiding under his hood.

“How'd you get in here?” Why that was the first thing Tony managed to say, he didn't know, but there was no response to his question. The man's hands were in the pocket of his hoodie, and Tony was more than a little panicked he had a gun in there, too, so he tried slowly backing away.

“I need your help,” the man in the shadows admitted after Tony had retreated a few feet. His hands moved in his pockets as he stepped forward and Tony reached blindly for something, anything, to defend himself with. He ended up grabbing a three-inch-long flathead screwdriver—wow, that would sure help fend off the ninja who could probably just step on him. Still, he held it up in front of himself like a weapon.

“ _Sir, I—”_

“Not now, Jarvis,” Tony quipped angrily at his computer. Then, directed at the stranger, “What do you need my help for?”

The man in the corner slowly took one hand from his pocket, and Tony's heart skipped a beat when he saw something reflect the bright lights. He tried to stay still, waiting for the guy to make his move.

In one swift movement, the stranger in the corner pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the floor and _holy shit, was that really...?_

“The Winter Soldier,” Tony blurted out. The man in the corner, now looking slightly uncomfortable without the coverage his shirt had offered, scowled.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled. “I don't...” He seemed to have trouble finishing the sentence, like he didn't know what the right words were. “I don't want to be him anymore.”

Tony's stance loosened, and he lowered his screwdriver slightly. Helplessly, the man gestured vaguely to his metal arm.

“The plates are stuck,” he mumbled, “and I think something's jammed in one of the joints.”

“That's why you're here?” Tony asked incredulously. “You want me to fix your robo-arm?” The Soldier grunted in response.

“Why me? Why not go back to your buddies at HYDRA; they seem to know how to put you back together pretty well.” The man in the corner flinched very slightly when Tony mentioned the parasitic organization. What, was he afraid of them now?

“They'll kill me if I go back,” he stated blankly. “I deflected. I'm a malfunctioning weapon. I'm a threat to them, and they neutralize threats.”

“Why wouldn't they just hit your reset button?” Tony had read (well, actually, had Jarvis summarize and then read to him) most of the files Romanoff had released, and he remembered how HYDRA had kept their master assassin in check. Mind wandering, he wondered if maybe there were specs for the arm there, too.

“They tried. I deflected again. They know it isn't working anymore and their next best option is to terminate the program.” Tony translated that as “firing squad and a cremation oven.”

“According to what I've read, you're my best option,” he continued. “Intelligent, well-equipped, resourceful, and maybe reckless enough to help the man who you know killed your parents.”

That was a sore spot for Tony. “What if I don't help you?” he asked defensively. “What if I'm not as 'reckless' as you're hoping?”

The assassin clenched his good fist reflexively and, after what seemed to be a painful internal struggle, relaxed his muscles. “I leave you untouched, with knowledge of my weakness and photographic evidence that I was here,” he decided after a few moments of silence. He looked up and eyed one of the cameras in the corner of the shop, staring at the red light for a moment before looking back to Tony.

“Are you surrendering?” Finally, Tony dropped his arm and shoved the screwdriver in one of his pockets. He took a step forward, arms crossed protectively over the thick layer of scar tissue on his chest.

The Soldier sighed. It sounded far too human for someone so emotionless. “I...” He sounded like he was trying to find the words, like he was scared of them, somehow. “I need someone I can trust,” he admitted finally. “I need someone to trust me.”

“That's going to take some work, Robocop,” Tony informed him. The man nodded in acknowledgement. Tony gave him a once-over, assessing his condition—he was dirty, battered, in obvious pain, and he wore a look close to defeat. Tony nodded to himself.

“I'll do what I can,” he agreed. The man in the corner relaxed slightly, and Tony went to work.

“Jarvis, pull up any files we've got on this guy,” he requested, grabbing one of his tablets from a nearby workbench. A few dozen folders appeared on the screen as he gestured for the man to come closer. He moved silently, and Tony realized that the loud noise he had made was intentional, to get Tony's attention.

“ _Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?”_ Jarvis asked as Tony looked through a file containing the basic stats of HYDRA's weaponized footsoldier.

“Absolutely not,” Tony admitted. He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, then motioned for the Soldier to sit in it. “Scan his arm,” he told the computer. “I need to know how it works before I can start fixing it.”

Tony stopped in his tracks, watching as the man in front of him sat obediently still while a beam of light traced his metal arm. “What should I call you?” he asked suddenly, and it took a moment before the assassin realized Tony was talking to him.

“I...” He trailed off, and Tony could tell he was trying to remember something. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he managed. Tony looked at the file in his hand—that was the name listed at the beginning of the document, but it was only used a handful of times before he was referred to only as the “Winter Soldier” or simply “the weapon.”

“Is that what you want me to call you?” Tony asked. “James?” He shook his head, trying to recall something else. Then, he looked Tony in the eyes and spoke.

“Call me Bucky.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of one of the many headcanon posts floating around tumblr. I wrote this because it was 11 PM and I couldn't sleep, but I tried to make it as canonically possible as I could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets Bucky a puppy because "Cheer the hell up, I'm twenty floors away and I can feel the tension in the room. It's getting annoying." Also, Steve shows up.

It didn't take long for Bucky to fall into a schedule at Avengers Tower. Every morning at five o'clock sharp, he woke up and stared still and silently at the ceiling of his room for exactly thirty seconds—that was how long it took him to remember where he was, who he was, and that he was safe. He would stand up and strip his bed of the sweat- and blood-stained sheets, because the nightmares and bad memories he lived through in his sleep would too often cause him to scratch harshly at his own body. The scars were usually scabbed over by morning, but they still hurt like hell. He figured he deserved the pain.

After balling up his sheets and throwing them in the basket in his bathroom, Bucky would take a quick shower (in cold water, because he was used to it that way) before tying his hair into a loose knot and making his way to the kitchen.

Bucky had spent a good part of his life as a socially starved, emotionless science experiment, so he didn't really understand the concept of assigning times to foods anymore. Hell, when he'd first escaped HYDRA, he had forgotten that eating was a necessity until a gang of undercover agents chased him into a deli and his stomach started growling. Whatever he touched first in the fridge at Stark's place became his breakfast, whether it be a carton of juice or half a box of leftover pizza. It was one of the few things in his new life he was left uncertain of, however insignificant it may have been. The rest of his day usually consisted of grabbing a book off of the shelf in the tiny library the building had (apparently installed at Pepper's insistence), reading until one of several human needs he forgot he had gained presence.

On his ninth day living in New York again, Bucky's routine of doing a hell of a lot of nothing was interrupted when Tony walked in the room and unceremoniously dropped a ball of golden fur on his lap.

“Cheer the hell up,” was all he said before he left again. Bucky stared at the door for a moment, until he felt the little lump resting on his jeans readjust itself. Sleepy brown eyes looked up at him, and the animal blinked at him before nuzzling into his stomach.

_ A dog? _ Bucky thought, still staring at the puppy. He shrugged and went back to his book. Within a few minutes though, he found himself with his right hand gently stroking the puppy's soft fur as it wiggled in his lap. Absentmindedly, he read his book with his fingers tangled in the puppy's coat. He looked over at it for a split second—it was pretty cute, and the book was getting a bit dull and sappy—and noticed a little blue collar around it's neck. He reached over and unhooked it, then scratched where the fur underneath it was flattened against it's neck. Bucky knew what it was like to be restrained and controlled, and he didn't want something so innocent to be subjected to that.

As soon as the collar was off, the puppy started rolling around and licking at Bucky. Did it want to play or something? Bucky put down his book and gently put the puppy on the floor. It started bouncing around, and Bucky ended up kneeling on the floor to bat it around gently. It nipped playfully at his sleeves and yipped at him when he managed to knock him over (which was a lot).

Bucky heard someone at the door clear his throat in an attempt to get his attention. He looked up, seeing a tall blond man leaning on the door frame with a small smile.

“Hey, Buck,” he greeted. He spoke softly and carefully, and Bucky knew he recognized him from somewhere. He stared for a moment, reminding himself constantly that he was safe and hostility was far from needed. Then, he remembered.

“Steve,” he tried, still vaguely uncertain. The man at the door smiled.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, relieved. “It's me.” He walked forward slowly, then sat on the floor a few feet away. The puppy was curious and went to investigate the new person.

“When'd you get a dog?” Steve asked, letting it crawl up his leg and lick his arm. Bucky shrugged.

“A few minutes ago,” he answered, trying to be light. “Stark came in and gave it to me.” He still sounded far too robotic than he wanted, but at least his sentences were full thoughts instead of commands.

Steve nodded. The room was silent for a minute with the exception of the puppy's yips and panting, but it tired quickly and ended up walking back to Bucky and curling up in his lap.

“How've you been?” Steve asked finally, looking at Bucky through his eyelashes.

“Since DC?” Bucky tried to recall the last few months, but they were fuzzy in his mind. “Scared. I've been running. From HYDRA, from cops... From you. I thought everyone was trying to kill me, but the longer I'm out of the freezer, the more my memory comes back. I remembered you—bits and pieces, another lifetime that doesn't even feel real most of the time. It blurred together with the information Pierce fed me, and I didn't know what was true and what wasn't. I remembered reading about who you trusted, and being told they were threats, but I figured with HYDRA on my ass it was my best option.” Bucky shrugged and looked at the dog, trying to avoid looking at Steve.

“Well, I'm glad you stopped running.” Steve waited for Bucky to look at him, but it didn't end up happening, so he continued. “How much do you remember?”

“Not much. I remember you picking fights, and getting sick, and almost freezing at night sometimes. Fighting in the war. Running from Red Skull. Working with the Howling Commandos...” He trailed off, and took a breath. “Falling off the train. It's blurry after that.” He didn't mention how the memory of landing at the base of the mountain and shattering his arm beyond recognition before being carelessly hacked off by uniformed thugs was burned into his mind—Steve didn't deserve that. “I remember being a lab rat.” Too many bad memories were surfacing, and he tried to change the subject. “When did you find out I was here?”

“Last week. Stark said you had showed up, but he thought you might need a bit more time. Told me to wait.”

Bucky grinned. It felt strange. “Never could do what you're told, huh, Rogers?” The knot in his hair had fallen apart, and his eyes were hidden behind the dark curtain that had dropped over his face.

Steve laughed. “Not when it comes to you, no.” He pointed at the dog in Bucky's lap. “What are you going to name him?” he asked. Bucky could hear the smile in his voice.

“I don't know,” he admitted. That seemed to be his answer to too many things, but maybe that was because he was still getting used to having choices again. “Nothing too dumb, like Max or Rover,” he ruled out. “And I think I overheard Pepper saying Barton's dog is named Lucky, so that's out.”

“Three down, nine thousand nine hundred ninety seven to go,” Steve joked.

“Cержа́нт.” The idea came out of nowhere, but it was one of the easiest independent thoughts Bucky had had in a long time. Steve looked up, confused.

“It means Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, only barely meeting his eyes. A hint of a smile graced Steve's face.

“You were so proud of yourself when you earned that rank,” Steve recalled. “It's all you'd call yourself for a week straight. Stared at your stripes whenever they weren't on your shirt, like you were afraid someone would take them from you.” Bucky tried to remember. All he got was a blurry image of a very skinny Steve failing to wrestle a shirt from him, along with a dull headache. He touched the puppy's neck, and it reached its head over to lick his finger. 

“Alright, then. Sergeant it is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you leave me alone with my own thoughts. Or, y'know, give me a computer in math class.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party at Avengers Tower and everyone's invited!

Four months after HYDRA wiped out SHIELD, and two after Bucky moved into Avengers Tower, the team finally had a chance to get together without something attempting to kill them. Various bottles of alcohol were being passed around (including one that Thor brought, which was so strong only Asgardians and Steve could drink it without immediately passing out), and there was a stack of pizza boxes as tall as Tony on the table.

It was still early in the night, and the tail end of a really cheesy romance movie was playing on one of the projectors. Tony was sitting on one of the couches with Bruce, and the pair of them were having an animated discussion with Jane about various scientific things that nobody else in the room bothered trying to understand. Thor was standing in the corner talking to Sif, who had tagged along to try and get away from the drama in Asgard. Steve, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, and Bucky were playing a four-foot-tall version of Jenga, with Tony occasionally yelling good moves at them. Lucky and Sergeant were curled up next to Pepper on the stairs while she talked with Sam about how ridiculous their superfriends were.

Once the movie had ended, Jarvis started playing music on the central sound system. A Queen song came up first, and by the end of the track everyone was singing along, even Sif, who didn't know the words. The dogs were howling with everyone, and Clint tossed a piece of pepperoni at Lucky to shut him up.

The next song made Bucky's head shoot up. It was a familiar tune that he knew he had heard more times than he could count, and his response was automatic—grab the nearest pretty girl and fall into step. He reached over and took Natasha's hand, meeting her eyes in question. When he smiled, she responded with a nod and followed him to an empty place on the floor. The steps came easily to Bucky, having been hardwired into his brain since he'd first been taught. Natasha easily followed along with him—it wasn't very complicated, and her training made her an extremely skilled dancer.

Not ten seconds later, Steve had stood up to join them. He grabbed Clint, who happened to be closest to him, and lead him in near perfect synchronization with Bucky and Natasha. Clint laughed and, after tripping over his feet a few times, found the rhythm.

Thor walked over to Jane and offered her his hand. She smiled, and before long they were also dancing to the upbeat tune, although it was a very different dance. Sam and Pepper joined in next, swinging each other around excitedly in a style that looked halfway between Thor's and Bucky's. Banner raised an eyebrow at Sif, who shrugged and walked over to join him in a simpler version of the dance Thor and Jane were doing. Tony stared at Rhodey for a few seconds, then they both shrugged and ended up bopping along to the song and smiling.

Everyone agreed that the song seemed far too short, so Tony told Jarvis to play it again. Nobody mentioned the reason they wanted to continue, but they all knew it: it was one of the few times they'd seen Bucky smile. They had all been through crap, but Bucky's past had to be one of the worst. Seeing him happy was a huge relief, and they wanted it to last as long as possible.

When the pitch of the music went up, signalling the end of the song, Bucky started spinning Natasha. She twirled countless times, faster and faster until the final note hit. When it did, they fell backwards onto the couch together, laughing and smiling. Everyone cheered.

“I will never understand how you can do that without getting dizzy,” Clint commented, dropping to sit on the floor in front of Natasha. She shrugged.

“It's one of the less lethal things the KGB taught me,” she allowed. She looked over at Bucky, who had his eyes closed and a huge smile on his face.

“December in 1940, there was a Christmas dance at the church down the street from my house,” he recalled, tipping his head back. “They played this song so many times that night I thought they were going to wear the vinyl down flat. It would play on the radio between shows, and you could hear it in the static when you were trying to find a station. When we got the V-disc at camp I would make everyone listen to it before we left.” He opened his eyes and pointed at Steve. “You hid it from me once and I almost tore your stuff apart trying to find it.”

“You remembered all that from one song?” Steve asked, partly confused but mostly amazed. Bucky just nodded, still grinning uncontrollably.

“Music's a powerful thing,” Natasha told him. She grabbed a bottle of vodka off of the table and took a swig, then handed it to Bucky. He stared at it for a moment before giving in and taking a sip. Clint reached over and snatched it from him, downed twice as much as Nat, and put it back on the table.

“Time to dance, morons,” he declared, getting up again. Jarvis took that as a cue to play another track, this one a pop song about a decade old. Barton started singing along in a surprisingly fantastic voice, climbing on the furniture and using an empty beer bottle as a microphone. The act got everyone laughing again, and before long they were all moving with the music again.

“This is the best I've felt in a long time,” Bucky admitted to Steve as they watched a more than slightly drunk Clint try to teach Thor and Sif what twerking was. Steve put an arm around his friend's waist and hugged him for a moment—his breath smelled like a mix of various alcoholic drinks, but he was only vaguely tipsy.

“I'm glad we could help.” Steve smiled and dropped his arm, looking Bucky in the eye. “Welcome back, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they were dancing to was [In The Mood by Glenn Miller](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPXwkWVEIIw). As for Barton, [take](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coxASXXTGhY) [your](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKTJCzmFQIU) [pick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=re9j2wOPzAY).
> 
> Yeah, it's short, I know. More than slightly based off of this headcanon post I found on tumblr: blandmarvelheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/87309328014


End file.
